


Will you...?

by gunpowder_and_pearls



Series: What if during the Stanford Era, Dean was a soldier [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explosions, Hurt Dean, Military Inaccuracies, PTSD, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunpowder_and_pearls/pseuds/gunpowder_and_pearls
Summary: Dean finally gets to come home.But after all he’s been through, it might be harder than he thinks.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/ Castiel Novak, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Series: What if during the Stanford Era, Dean was a soldier [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469135
Comments: 22
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel!!!
> 
> I did it!!!!(updates won’t come super quickly, school is taking a lot out of me)
> 
> Lmk what y’all think!!

It had been almost six years since Dean had grew a pair and decided to stop by Sam’s. Since he had met Cas. 

And he cherished every one of them. 

He used to be so scared,  _ terrified,  _ of what people might say, how they might look at him, when they found out he was in fact,  _ not  _ straight.

But now? He couldn’t care less. 

He had met the love of his life and he was never letting go. 

Dean was pretty sure whoever was controlling when he got to go on leave felt sorry for him, because after he’d come back after that five year stretch of no contact, no plan, and no backup, he’d gotten to go home at least every six months or so. 

It had been about nine months since he’d last seen Cas face to face. Now, he was going home. Just three more days. He could make it.  _ Just three more days.  _

* * *

It was mail day. Every soldier in the barracks knew what that meant.  _ Pictures  _ and  _ letters _ , scraps of that life that was so far away from them. Dean still hadn’t gotten used to the massive care packages he got once a month. 

“Winchester!”

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes flying to the man who was crossing the room, clipboard in hand. “Here, sir.”

The older man didn’t even pause, gesturing behind him to the massive shelves of letters and boxes. “You got somethin’.”

Dean gave him a nod, absentmindedly tucking his tags under his shirt as he stood. “Thank you, sir.”

And there, sitting on the space reserved for ‘Winchester, Dean’, was a dinged up cardboard box, his name scrawled haphazardly up its side in Cas’ neat handwriting. Just a box, not even that big, but right then he could’ve sworn it was a gift sent from heaven. 

Making his way back to his familiar cot and bag stuffed underneath it was a different matter entirely. Mail day was always chaotic. But  _ come on,  _ Dean just wanted to open his  _ fucking box.  _

By the time he’d sat down he’d almost dropped his package twice, and had almost murdered two of his unit members. 

“Someone sent you a box?” Benny’s thick southern drawl drew out the words. “Well, you’re goin’ back in a couple days, no sense in you keepin’ that.”

“Fuck off, Benny.” Dean knew he wouldn’t actually try to take it, they both knew how much these things meant to them. He still shifted himself slightly in front of it. 

“Hey man,” Benny said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I ain’t tryin’ to take it. Unless, of course,” he grinned, “you’re willin’ to share.”

Dean rolled his eyes turning his attention to the box in his lap. Ripping it open was not as easy as he thought it was going to be. It looked like whoever had closed it decided they better make it animal  _ and  _ human proof. You know, if it managed to get lost in the mail after being sent to a military base. 

Knowing his brother and Cas, it had most likely been Sam and Gabriel’s fault.  _ Those dicks.  _

He huffed under his breath, pulling out the military issued knife he carried around and flipped it open. It took a good minute or two to manage to cut the taped edges, and Dean almost cut off his own finger. When he finally managed to pull it open, he’d used up every last swear word he’d learned. 

“You need some help there, brother?”

Dean glared as Benny smiled back. “You know what, Benny?”

The other soldier chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “What, Winchester?”

“Go fuck yourself, that’s what.”

Benny laughed again and shook his head. “Hey, what happens in the shower stays in the shower.”

Dean paused from where he’d been pulling the bubble wrap out of his box. “I don’t even want to know.”

His friend snorted and Dean went back to uncovering whatever his brother and Cas- _ his family- _ had sent him. When all of the plastic wrap had been tossed on the floor, Dean froze. 

“I love you guys so fucking much right now,” he whispered to the box, grinning. Five bags of black licorice sat innocently in front of him.  _ Heaven,  _ that’s what they’d sent him. 

He began to pull them out one by one and line them up on his bed when he stopped again. Two envelopes lay at the bottom of the cardboard box, one labeled  _ letters  _ in Sam’s messy scrawl, the other left blank. 

_ The fuck?  _ Knowing who has most likely packed his box, he slowly opened the envelope, making sure to keep it a few feet from his face and other valuable parts. 

He flipped it open and tensed, then relaxed when nothing exploded or jumped out. Tilting the envelope towards himself, Dean paused.  _ Are those...photos? _

The soldier pulled the stack of images out and dropped the now empty envelope back in the box. He shuffled them in his hands and then stopped, staring down at the first photo. 

It was in Sam’s living room, his brother with an arm wrapped around Jess, their rings shining. Gabriel and Luke were in the background, popcorn scattered on the floor around them, wrestling and cackling. And there, in the very edge of the image, was Cas, eyes wide as he stared at the camera. 

A soft smile crept across Dean’s face and he flipped to the next one. It was Castiel and Gabriel this time, two flour handprints on Cas’ face that framed the glare he was pointing at his brother. Gabriel was grinning, a bright smear of blue frosting running down the front of his shirt. 

He picked up the third and final one and- 

He felt the breath whoosh out of him.  _ Holy fuck.  _

It was just Cas this time, slumped in the armchair of his living room, a chair Dean knew intimately well, and a book was in his hands. Someone must have opened the curtains because the dark haired man was looking up at the camera with a peaceful smile on his lips and the light-

It hit him perfectly. He looked like he was glowing, golden and gorgeous and-

He looked like an angel. 

He felt his breath stutter in and out of him for a few moments as he looked down at the photo in his hands. 

“Winchester’s got a boy!” Benny’s voice jerked Dean out of his revere and he glared at his friend. 

“Shut it.”

The other soldier grinned and snatched the photo out of his hands, triumphantly waving it in the air. “Ay everyone! Winchester found himself a boy!”

A few of the other men chuckled at Benny’s antics, glancing at their flushed Sargeant. Dean let a growl slip out and lunged at Benny, holding back a laugh when the man yelped, going down as Dean tackled him. 

He ripped the photo from Benny’s hands and folded it up, cramming it into his pocket. “Idiot,” he muttered, climbing off his friend and brushing himself off. 

“Hey,” Benny began, pushing himself to his feet. “We can always share, if you wanna.”

Dean felt a hot flash of jealousy rush through him before he pushed it away.  _ Benny’s only joking,  _ he  _ knows  _ that Benny is only joking, but he couldn’t help that tiny bit of self doubt. “Benny, I swear to fucking god, if you ever say that again, I’ll assign you night patrols with a different unit. Got it?”

“Yeah boss, got it.” Benny was still smiling but he backed off of Dean, recognizing that he needed space. 

* * *

“Sweep left,” Dean said, gesturing to Harvelle and Gordon. “Me an’ Lafitte got forward.” 

The unit split, each pair scanning as they slowly moved forward, past empty houses and open gates. 

“All clear!” Came Harvelle’s call, and after Benny’s identical confirmation, Dean nodded and signaled them together. 

“We’re good. Forward.” The four soldiers continued down the road, occasionally pausing for a sweep. 

Then Benny froze. “Down!” He turned to the others, dropping to his stomach and rolling to the side of the road. “Get down! Now!” 

Dean threw himself to the ground, but not fast enough. It was like the ground had erupted. 

Dean’s body went flying and he felt metal pierce his back and all he could think was-

_ No.  _

_ No, God no.  _

_ Please.  _

_ I was so close to going home.  _

And then he hit the ground and he could  _ feel  _ every bit of shrapnel imbedded in him, a fiery pain making its way through his shoulder and pure, white, agony lancing across his back. 

The dust settled around him and it’s silent for a moment, and Dean felt his stomach rise to his throat because  _ oh god, what if they’re all dead, it’s my fault, I should’ve been paying attention- _

“Sound off!” Benny’s voice was hushed but it still reached Dean’s ears. Even through the haze of pain he felt relief, if only because he didn’t kill his best friend. 

“Harvelle.” Ellen’s voice was raspy and ended with a cough, but she was okay. 

“Gordon.” He sounded just fine, maybe a little strained from pressing his face to the dirt. 

“Lafitte.” Dean could feel their eyes on him, on his motionless form slumped to the side. 

“Winchester! You there? Winchester, answer dammit!” Ellen’s command, tinged with maybe the tiniest hint of desperation, pulled Dean back from the edge of blissful, _ blissful,  _ unconsciousness. 

“Nngh.” The weak moan barely escaped his lips and was so quiet he wasn’t sure they’d heard him, but he didn’t think he’d be able to form a word. 

“He’s alive.” The relief in Benny’s voice made him want to sit up, to reassure him that he wasn’t dead, not yet, not really, but he only managed to turn his head the tiniest bit. 

Benny swore and gestured to Gordon. “Call it in, man down, we need a medic immediately. Harvelle, help me drag ‘im.”

The other soldiers nodded and Gordon scrambled for his radio while Ellen and Benny began to inch their way towards Dean. 

Dragging their weight on their arms and pushing with their knees was no easy thing, and Dean would’ve watched, if only to mock Benny later, but he instead chose that moment to move his shoulder. The pain washed over him again, his vision beginning to waver, and he curled in on himself only to stop when new bits of shrapnel in his back made themselves known. 

He could hear a faint whimper coming from somewhere and he almost tried to ask his unit what it was, if it was a bomb or an enemy soldier- _ that’s me. _

Ellen and Benny had made it to him and Dean tried to focus, mentally attempting to stop the ringing in his ears. Benny was talking and the injured soldier squinted, eyes locked on his lips. 

Benny was gesturing, trying to mime something out. “We’re…(care?)...Ellen and me…(lit? Shift?)...one, two,” The two soldiers bent down on either end of him, Benny hooking his arms around Dean’s midsection and Ellen grabbing his knees. “Three.”

He was lifted into the air-

Dean screamed. 

His shoulder was  _ on fire,  _ it  _ had  _ to be, there was no other explanation for the pain. He bucked in their arms, thrashing and trying to pat out the flames- _ oh god oh god OH GOD I’m going to die- _ the other soldiers pinned his arm down and Dean fought harder- _ they must not understand, maybe they just  _ can’t see  _ the fire- _

Then sweet, sweet, darkness came rushing in.

* * *

Dean let out a groan, vision hazy as he stared upward.  _ Huh. Brown.  _

“Hey...Dean? Just don’t move, okay?” Benny’s voice was going in and out, white noise fuzzing it out. “We’ve got...medic, you’ll be...fine.”

The green eyed man nodded slightly, then froze.  _ Cas.  _ Raising his uninjured arm, he scrabbled at the breast pocket of his jacket... _ where’s my jacket?  _ Dean’s breath hitched.

“Ca-as…”

Benny’s face swam back into view. “Nah, your boy ain’t here.” 

“N-o.” Dean willed his friend to understand. “ _ Cas. _ ” He flailed at his chest, where Cas’ picture was supposed to be. “Jacket,” he croaked out. 

“A picture?” Ellen’s voice sounded far away, as if she was calling down a tunnel. 

Dean managed a nod and moments later she was back, a photo in one hand. “Here,” she said gently, handing it to him slowly. 

“Thanks…” he whispered, clutching the image tightly. 

“Hey.” Benny began to speak, leaning closer to him. “The medic’s gonna be back real soon, alright? So hold on. You hear me brothe’?” His voice was filled with poorly masked worry. “Don’t go to sleep.”

Black spots were swirling through his vision, merging on the edges of his sight. Dean smiled slightly, the comforting feeling of his photo in his hand. Then he closed his eyes, the noise and pain and worry and  _ fear,  _ slipping away. 

* * *

A steady beeping filled his ears, and  _ why the fuck did he buy a fucking alarm clock for a war zone.  _

Dean rolled over-or at least  _ tried  _ to roll over-but he only ended up rolling his head to one side and  _ what the fuck.  _

An IV was in one of his arms, hopefully only giving him water and food, not drugs, but given that he felt more relaxed than he’d ever been, since the last time he’d gone home, he sincerely doubted nutrients were all they were pumping into him. 

“Wha…” He cut himself off, a harsh cough working it’s way up his throat. 

“Oh!” A harried looking nurse ducked into his room, a smile on her face. “You’re awake! I bet you’ll be wanting some water, yes?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned back around, coming in moments later with a cup in her hand. “Here. Ice chips.”

She pressed a button on the arm of his- _ bed…? _ -and it began to shift upright, only stopping halfway through. The nurse held the cup up to his mouth, batting his arms down when he tried to take it from her. 

Dean relented and opened his mouth, letting her slide a few chips in before swallowing. “Thanks,” he said, voice rough. “Where…?”

She smiled again, this one looking more pressed on and forced. “Your team is right outside, they were  _ very  _ adamant about staying.”

_ So Benny threatened someone because they tried to grab one of them.  _ He grinned to himself.  _ I woulda liked to have seen that.  _ “Can I see them now?” 

She hesitated and as if on cue, a thud and a torrent of swearing echoed down the hall. Knowing his unit, Gordon probably punched a wall and now regrets it. “Of course, let me go get them.” 

The nurse hurried out and then poked her head back in. “They’ll be right there.” 

Dean didn’t have to wait long. Benny was the first one to walk in, a glare set on his face, before it softened at the sight of the other injured soldier. Ellen was right behind him, muttering about stupid nurses’ and ‘dumbass soldiers’. Gordon entered last, still shaking his hand out. 

“Hey brothe’. How are ya doin’,” Benny said, pulling out one of the chairs along the wall and dragging it to Dean’s bedside. 

“They got me ‘n the good st’ff,” Dean replied, frowning at the slur in his words. Then he brightened. “You’re all good...yeah?”

“Yeah man, we’re all good.” 

Dean nodded slowly. “Good.”

“Hey, Dean?” Gordon stepped forward. “We’re all still going home in two days, ‘n the doctors said you got two options. Stay here for a little longer, or come home with a lot of meds.”

The green eyed man smiled. “Of course I’m coming home,” he said, absentmindedly reach to pat his breast before pausing. “Where’d they put my picture?”

Ellen grinned and reached into her pocket. “I’ve got it Winchester, don’t worry.”

“Oh...can I have it?” 

The woman nodded and pulled the photo out. It was- _ miraculously _ -uncrumpled. 

“Thanks, Ellen.” He looked back to Benny. “Get me outta here and onto a plane.”

The soldier nodded and headed to the door. “You got it brothe’.”


	2. Chapter 2

Y’all please help

Im trying to find this Clint Barton fic where he’s Ronin and when Nat goes to get him, the rest go with her. They don’t know it’s Clint and they’re all protective and don’t want her going out there alone? Just a oneshot I think 

aaaaalso if there are any really good Misunderstood Clint Barton fics that you guys could suggest (high school Au, no Au, idc) that would be amazing 

and any good Legolas hurt fics where he hides his injuries from the fellowship?

and any badass/protective Natasha would be greatly appreciated 

  
  


love y’all!!

~gunpowder_and_pearls


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I'm so sorry, school and sports have been really kicking my ass. 
> 
> Midterms are coming up in the next week or so and I've really gotta study.
> 
> Pray for my math grade please!!
> 
> Anywaaaaay, this chapter is pretty short but I wanted to get a new one out before the new year and I didn't want it to seem like I was giving up on this story. 
> 
> Lemme know what you guys think with kudos and comments, they make me type more!!

It was the day before they were going home, and Dean was sitting on his hospitable bed, a paper clutched in his hands. 

He was shaking slightly, mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes staring but not focused. He reread the diagnosis over again, and Dean’s breathing hitched. 

“Hey, Dean.” Ellen poked her head through the doorway and the man jerked, pressing a smile to his lips. 

“Ellen! My favorite lady!” He grinned at her and raised an eyebrow. “Come to help me pack up all my crap?” Dean waved an arm at his barren room. “I know it ain’t much, but it’s home.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t try your shit on me, Winchester. I ain’t some stupid city nurse you can pull one over on.” She glanced to the now crumpled paper in his hands. “What’d the doc say?”

Dean froze for a moment and he tightened his grip on the paper. “Nothin’ important,” he said. “Just the regular  _ ‘take your pills’ _ and  _ ‘don’t push yourself’ _ , you know?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes. “Dean.”

“It ain’t anything you need to know, alright? ‘M fine.” 

“If you’re fine,” she replied, “Why don’t you just let me read then, huh?” She eyed the outline of his bandages through his shirt. “And I know you got a lot of shrapnel in you, so I know it ain’t fine.”

Dean shook his head, carefully keeping his gaze off the paper. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it don’t,” she snapped and stepped forward, extending a hand. “Give it, Winchester.”

She looked seconds away from tackling him and just wrenching the paper from his hands, with only the fact the he still had stitches holding her back. Dean nodded reluctantly and passed it to her, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor. 

It was silent for a moment and then-

“Nerve damage?” The anger in her voice made him want to screw his eyes shut. “They’re pulling you out ‘cause of nerve damage?”

Dean nodded again and slowly held out his hand, palm to the ground and fingers extended. “See?” His hand was shaking, the trembling growing the longer he tried to keep it still. “I can’t hold a gun, I sure as shit can’t pull a trigger with any accuracy, I-” He cut himself off, before trying again. 

“The shaking goes up my entire arm.” Dean could feel the prickling in his eyes and blinked it back.  _ Not now.  _ “I can’t do anythin’.” He shrugged. “They offered me a desk job, but we all know how well that’d go for me.” He glanced back up. “So...I’m goin’ home and I ain’t coming back.”

Ellen stared at him for a moment, before setting her shoulders and letting a smile pull at her lips. “Well, at least I got a guaranteed place to stay when they send me back for killin’ Zachariah.” 

Dean grinned at the thought of her pulling a gun on their supervisor. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Uhuh.”

It was quiet again and Dean began to curl back in on himself, when Ellen spoke. 

“What do you say we get you back on a plane and back to your boy?”

“I…” A soft sigh slipped out of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders began to slowly seep away. “Y-Yeah.” The thought of Cas, of the feeling of his trench coat under his fingers, of his bright blue eyes and ruffled hair, made the ache in Dean’s chest grow. “Yeah, lets go.”

* * *

It wasn’t until he was on the plane, until his duffle was above him and his backpack was stuffed under the chair by his feet, that it really hit him. He got to go home.  _ And he didn’t have to come back.  _

Dean had never really thought about not getting to come home, or about coming home in pieces, at least not when he was at base or on patrol, but in the hospital he’d had all the time in the world. And the images of a flag being handed to Sam or Cas getting a phone call in the middle of the night, those were what had forced his fingers to write out a few phone numbers and demand to call them.

Now, with Benny on his left and Ellen right in front, fatigue clad people surrounding him, he’d never felt more safe or scared at the same time. 

“You doin’ good?” Benny leaned over to Dean, a grin stretching across his face. “You know, if yah don’t make it home, I can take care of your boy.”

The green eyed soldier glared. “Shut it, Benny.”

“Hey man,” he said, leaning back and lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just givin’ a suggestion.”

Dean glared harder, not letting a single bit of the smile that was below the surface slip through. “Well...stop with the suggesting.”

Benny chuckled and nodded, turning back to the magazine in his hands. “Alright, alright.”

It had been silent again for a few moments and Dean could  _ hear  _ the humming coming from the lights. Lights that were on because  _ they were in the air, in a metal death trap.  _

_ Who would ever think metal could fly?  _ Dean began to pick at a loose string on his jacket, anything to calm his hands and ignore the still-there ache of his injuries.  _ Metal can’t fly. It’s not an element that’s lighter than air. It  _ also  _ can’t fucking float. You know why? ‘Cause it’s fucking  _ METAL! 

Dean could see the land under their plane getting closer and closer, and he began to bounce his leg, giving up on the string that dangled from his jacket. Sucking in a sharp breath, he held it, waiting for the comforting thud of them hitting the ground. 

He heard Benny laugh beside him and he would’ve glared, but then they landed, Dean jolting in his seat. The ache in his back and shoulder flared and he let out a hiss, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“Jesus.” He ignored the tremble in his usually steady voice as the plane slowed to a crawl. He ignored the concerned glances that came from Benny and Ellen. He ignored it and began to pull his backpack out, double and triple checking that he hadn’t left anything behind. 

He wanted to talk to them and feel the comfort of knowing they had his back, he  _ really did,  _ but after fucking up so badly on his last mission and almost getting himself blown up, he’d failed them. 

He’d fucked himself up  _ so badly  _ that the  _ goddamn ARMY  _ didn’t even want him anymore. God, how could he even look Cas in the eyes anymore? He’d  _ already _ known that the darker haired man was too good for him, but now he was  _ useless.  _

_ “Just a useless piece of shit! Don’t eve’ know why I evah kept you.”  _

It was like his dad was right in front of him again, drunkenly ranting on and on about some stupid mistake that Dean made, because  _ he really should’ve known better,  _ this had  _ already  _ happened  _ before,  _ can’t he just NOT MAKE A GODDAMN MISTAKE FOR ONCE-

“Dean? You good, brothe’?”

Dean’s breathing hitched and he nodded quickly, pulling himself away from the image of his father’s bright red and furious face. “Yeah...I-I’m good.” 

He’d never had to function with the loss of so much movement, but right now he’d give anything to be able to lift his arm higher than his shoulder. Other soldiers were beginning to rise from their seats, easily grabbing their bags from the compartments above, but Dean was frozen, his eyes locked on his duffle that looked  _ so easy to reach _ . 

“Here, lemme get that one for you.” A light-haired young woman stood, handing him his bag gently. She hesitated, before speaking again. “You goin’ anywhere after this?” 

_ Was she...asking him out?  _ “I uh...yeah, my family is meeting me at the airport. You?” They began to file out, all of them automatically falling into an identical pace. 

“Oh. Well…” She tossed him a tiny salute and smiled. “Then have a good time.”

He nodded back to her and hefted his duffle more securely onto his shoulder. “Thanks...you too.” He gave her a grin in return and stepped to the side, letting other soldiers past him as he waited for the familiar sight of Ellen and Benny’s dark-haired heads. 

As they approached Dean let his full smile slip onto his face. “Good to have our feet on solid ground, huh?” 

Ellen rolled her eyes and continued past him, not pausing to let him catch up. “Uhuh. You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you were scared in that plane.”

Dean shook his head, grinning as they continued to tease each other, Benny’s occasional chuckle as the background noise. “What are you talkin’ about? I ain’t scared of airplanes, why would I be?”

Her voice was hiding her smile as she responded. “Dean, I could hear you hummin’ Metallica behind me for half the flight.” 

This was more like it, the casual teasing and ribbing that came with having a team as close as his was. He could almost pretend like he hadn’t failed them so badly. “I dunno.” He pushed down the shame and pulled back on his smile. “You must’ve lost some hearin’ in that explosion. Maybe the doctors who checked you out were lyin’.”

“Dean, broth-”

“DEAN!”

The green-eyed soldier’s head snapped to the right, following the direction where the yell had come from.  _ There was a tan blur and then _ -

“Cas.” His voice was nothing more than a choked whisper as he buried his face in the shorter man’s black hair. 

He wrapped his arms more securely around the other, digging his fingers into Cas’ trenchcoat. The feeling of being pressed against Cas, of the knowledge that he was home finally settling in made a lump in his throat slowly form. Tears began to spill down his cheeks and Dean let out a choked sort of noise as Cas pulled back, a soft smile on his face. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” he rasped, and Cas smiled wider.

“Hello Dean.” 

Then the smaller man reached up and slid one hand into Dean’s hair, wrapping the other arm around his waist, and pulled Dean’s face down until their noses were just touching. “I missed you,” Cas whispered and stretched up to his tiptoes, barely brushing his lips to Dean’s. 

“I-I missed you too.”

Dean bent down even further and pressed a firm kiss to the other man’s mouth before yanking Cas to him completely, almost curling himself around him as they reunited. 

“Whooo!” A loud whoop split them apart and Dean turned sharply, glaring as Benny jogged towards them, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Ay everyone, I found Winchester’s boy!”

The shorter man let out a mock growl but then there was  _ Sam _ , sprinting towards them. 

“Dean!” Sam almost slammed into his older brother as he wrapped his arms around him, as if he was eleven and Dean had come home late from his job again. 

Dean grinned and hugged him back. “Heya Sammy.” He stepped back and looked Sam up and down. “Nice hair.”

“Shut up.”

“You know…” He gestured vaguely to the fluffy hair that almost obscured Sam’s eyes. “Just gimme a minute and a pair of scissors, I could-”

“Dean,” Sam said, cutting his brother off. “I missed you too.”

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, glancing down to his feet before looking up again. “Yeah, yeah.” 

It was silent again, the bustle of the airport seeming to avoid them, leaving a little pocket of peace for the three of them. Like someone had hit the mute button and left them the remote. Dean let the moment wash over him, the feeling of being on solid ground, on American soil, with Cas next to him and Sam right in front. 

It had been far too long since Dean had gotten to relax so completely. With the shame of failing his team and the anxiety of not getting to come home, or that when he did get to go that he’d be pulled back without a moment’s notice, he’d had so much weighing on him that he’d never even let himself breathe.

It was at a silent agreement that they began to make their way out. Sam led the way, a bounce in his step that was more at home in a child than a full-grown, over six-foot tall man. Cas remained next to Dean, his presence like a beacon of calm in the airport full of rushing business people and pissed off parents.

And  _ god,  _ what Dean would give for this to be the rest of his life. 


	5. Epilogue Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally nothing to say for myself.

Dean had never been more nervous in his  _ life. _ He knew he wasn’t making a mistake, but if Cas didn’t agree with him-

The weight in his pocket seemed to be increasing for every moment he spent pacing in Cas’ living room. Footsteps sounded and his head jerked up as his dark haired boyfriend ducked back into the room.

“Ready to go?” Cas asked, a slight smile on his face. 

Dean hesitated. “Yeah, uh. I think we should talk real quick.” He saw the look that flashed across the other man’s face and hastened to reassure him. “It’s nothing bad, I swear.” He paced another few steps before stopping and turning to face Cas completely.

“I just-” He cut himself off, a hand fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “I-. I want to say thank you.” Cas opened his mouth to respond and Dean continued before he could interject. “You’ve stuck with me through a lot of fucked up shit, through a lot of nightmares a-and flashbacks, and that means a lot to me.” He glanced up for a moment before returning his gaze to the ground.

“Not a lot of people would stay through all that.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair and kept his eyes firmly away from Cas’ face, not wanting to see anything in his expression that might make Dean chicken out. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“I have been too.” Dean could hear both the confusion and the smile in Cas’ voice. 

“A-and I want to keep getting to be with you for hopefully the rest of my life.” 

“...Dean.” The soldier swallowed convulsively, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“So...Castiel Novak,” Dean said, finally lifting his eyes from the ground to lock on Castiel’s face sinking to one knee. “Will you…?” His voice trailed off uncertainly as he pulled the ring box from his pocket and opened it. 

It was silent for a moment and Dean could hear his heart beginning to pick up, the pounding almost overwhelming in his ears. Cas was frozen in front of him, mouth hanging open. 

Then the world unpaused itself, and Castiel was smiling, tears shining in his eyes as he sank to the ground to Dean and wrapped his arms around the soldier’s neck. “God, Dean. Y-Yes, yes of course I’ll marry you.” 

Dean let out a sigh of relief and rested his head on his  _ fiancé’s  _ shoulder. “Oh thank god.”

“But Dean. I don’t have a ring for you, it’s still getting shipped over from my parent’s estate, it’s not going to arrive for weeks-”

Dean shook his head and tightened his hold on Cas. “I don’t care.” At Cas’ sound of protest, he repeated himself. “I  _ don’t care _ , alright? You said yes and you’re going to give me a ring  _ from your family _ . I don’t need a ring right now. I just need you to be wearing yours.”


End file.
